


Common Sense

by karmascars



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmascars/pseuds/karmascars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 2x10, Seth and Richie find themselves back where they began: in a shitty motel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Sense

**Author's Note:**

> _For Oliver._

Richie watches Seth prowl the motel room looking for anything weird. Studying his nails, he leans back against the door, pretending he isn’t watching — like Seth doesn’t already know he is.

He doesn’t know why he followed his brother here. Old habits die hard, he supposes. Seth wasn’t having anything to do with the sumptuous quarters back at Jacknife Jed’s. Took one look, scoffed, and left. And Richie followed like a dog.

Seth won’t meet his eyes. He’s probably still mad; probably furious, probably wishing Richie wasn’t here so he could trash the room or himself in his ire. Richie understands. If he wasn’t so used to holding it all in til it exploded in a rash of quadratic equations and broken pencils — or sometimes, broken bones — he’d be pacing, too.

He knows his brother never wanted the kingdom of the snakes. Never wanted a life so complicated as what’s happened this past month. All Seth Gecko ever wanted was Paradise. For both of them. And Richie didn’t fuck that up — that was Carlito, bless and curse the fucker — but Seth probably blames him anyway. It’s his ass on the throne, after all. His face wearing fangs.

Seth glances over at him. Richie is focused on picking a hangnail but still feels eyes on him. _Eyes find eyes._ He resists the urge to look up and meet them.

“Richie.”

His brother sounds impatient. Eyes flick up and find eyes, dark brown muddied by the dim light.

“What the fuck are you doing.” It’s not a question.

“Waiting,” Richie says honestly.

“For what?”

 _For something to happen,_ Richie thinks. He doesn’t know what. A softer thought echoes, _for you._

He shrugs against the door.

“Well, could you do it somewhere else? You’re skeevin’ me out.”

Seth moves like he’s uncomfortable, short motions even shorter. He shrugs out of his dirty jacket, tears a few buttons down from his throat, and rolls up his sleeves. Then he stalks over to the coffee pot and eyes into it with a grunt. Slams it down. Starts making coffee at whatever the fuck time of night it is, because that’s normal.

Without really deciding to, Richie pushes away from the door.

He feels alive, awake like he never was before. The air is filled with a myriad of scents. Some of them fade into others and become sweet medleys that swim into his nostrils and make him want to huff them like fumes. He can smell Seth over there, unshowered, coated in dried sweat and blood. His. Others’. The coffee is a bitter tang. It’s shadowing the familiarity.

Richie is halfway across the room and closer before he realizes what he’s doing.

He decides to go with it when he’s three feet from his brother’s back.

Seth whirls but Richie is there, fists clenched tight in the folds of his shirt, low over lean hips. Seth is saying something, the sounds of the words sharp in the air between them; he’s leaning back, but Richie just follows him.

The coffee service clatters on the counter behind him. Richie’s nose is buried just behind Seth’s ear, where the scent of him is strongest. Breathing him in.

“Richie, Richie, man, what are you doing,” his brother’s babble cuts back in through the pulsing of Richie’s veins, his want, both their wants? Heartbeats he can hear like bass in the next room, like an EDM concert up against his skin.

When he twitches down below, it’s call and response. He hums.

Seth shivers.

“You want this,” Richie says. His mouth feels like it’s gummed up with molasses. Like this is a dream. The words might come out more like a moan but his perception of time is so fucked he can’t tell.

“Seth…”

“Get — get off me, Richard,” his brother says. Starts shoving at him. Richie lets him, obedient for now, unruffled by the show. He can scent the pulse still rocketing through Seth’s body down to where it’s needed most. The sight of his brother standing there, debauched in the shitty light of the vanity, is a balm to the wound Kisa opened when she drove off alone.

Plush lips tremble.

Richie licks his. He can feel his fucking snake teeth wanting to pop free. Sometimes, he hates them. They’ve got minds of their own. That’s not what this is about.

He takes a step forward. “Are you telling me that’s a charade?” he says with a curt little nod down.

Seth flushes, but he doesn’t move.

“Or…” Richie steps closer. “Are you…” Closer. “Into this?” He leans down, whispers his last word against Seth’s lips. “Brother?”

Seth shivers, a little sound escaping him that by his scowl wasn’t meant to.

He glances away.

“Damnit, Richie.”

“Hey, I can be a gentleman,” Richie says, stepping back, hands up like what Seth’s pointing at him really is a gun. “I can say goodnight.”

He has to play this carefully. Seth is teetering on an edge, he can see it. He can smell it. The heady tang of arousal has gathered above their heads. But one wrong move and all he’ll get is another fight, maybe a broken cheekbone (never mind that it’ll heal) and a brother he’ll once more have to cajole into working with him. For fuck’s sake.

Swallowing down his frustration, Richie projects nonchalance.

Which of course Seth sees right through.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he tosses out with a scoff. “You’ve changed, Richie. You used to —”

“Used to what, pretend _just like you_ that neither of us knew what was really going on?” Richie doesn’t want to let Seth get to him like he does all the fucking time but he can’t, he just can’t with this. Not anymore. “Like we didn’t get off two feet away from one another for _years_ wondering just how sinful it could possibly be to give one another a hand?” He stalks a little closer, jabbing a finger at Seth’s chest. “You were the one who was skittish. I played by your rules. And now — now? Seth!” He laughs, a little bitter thing that pierces the air. “I’m not even human anymore.”

He’s back in Seth’s space. He no longer cares about playacting. Why should he? If Seth isn’t even going to let him try to be subtle then, well, he just won’t. Besides, he’d have to be blind not to see the way Seth still isn’t really looking at him.

“Is that what bothers you?” he presses. “Huh?”

“Richie, don’t —”

_Hmm?_

“Don’t what?”

Slowly, cautious but deliberate, Richie brings a fingertip to Seth’s lower lip. Then his thumb, brushing it over the delicate skin ever so slightly. His fingers slide over Seth’s neck into the bristles of his hair, cupping the back of his head.

Richie quirks his own to the side, just a little, making a reciprocal gesture with the hand that’s collecting warmth from his brother’s skin.

_Don’t… what?_

Seth’s lips part, quivering just enough to be a distraction.

It’s so easy for Richie to surge in and claim them. His brother tastes like old booze and sweat and himself, just like Richie always figured he would.

There’s no gentleness in this kiss. There’s no time. And Richie doesn’t think he has gentle in him anymore. He’s yanking Seth closer, pressing into him, turning them and driving Seth back into the wall between breaths. They slam into the drywall with twin grunts.

Nipping at Seth’s lip, Richie swallows his brother’s gasp.

“Nnn—Richie!” Seth insists, pressing him back with hands flat to Richie’s chest, eyes wild and lips so kiss-plump that Richie darts for them again. But his brother isn’t a lightweight.

Richie fights against a snarl that surfaces at the restraint.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Seth whispers, fear and something else entirely.

“What I want,” Richie says. “What we both want.”

“I —”

“Lie to me, Seth, and I swear to God I won’t even try to be gentle.”

That shouldn’t turn anyone on but it does, both of them, eyes dilating as they stare at one another. Richie can tell the difference in his own by what he can see in the low light. Seth looks like he’s on drugs again, two thin rings of color around pools of black.

“I —”

This time it’s Seth darting forward, Seth finding Richie’s lips with a hunger that steals his breath. Grappling for his brother’s hips, his ass, Richie hoists Seth up so those strong legs of his can wrap around Richie’s waist and grind them together. Perfect. His moan disappears down Seth’s throat and comes back to him deeper, more frantic.

He pulls back, laughing. “Haven’t you been getting laid this whole time?”

Seth answers with a swivel dip of his entire lower half that makes Richie gasp.

“Isn’t the same and you know it.”

“Yeah…”

Seth is nothing like Kisa in his arms. His kisses sting around the edges, his form is harder, stronger in different ways. His cock against Richie’s through their suit slacks is definitely new. Richie presses him into the wall even harder just to feel that sliding up against him in the groove of his hip.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” comes the breathless answer. “Yeah, man.” Seth’s flat human teeth find his earlobe. “Yeah…”

They’re bucking against one another between Richie and the wall like a pair of teenagers in the bathroom during class, little animal grunts and moans escaping noses while lips are occupied. Richie presses Seth’s back into the drywall so he’s got his hands free to tug at short hair and the shirts between them. It’s almost offensive how many clothes they have on. He knows he’s ripping buttons but, at the rate they’ve gone through cheap suits lately, it won’t matter.

Especially not when he’s got his hand up under Seth’s stupid wife beater.

He’s always known his brother’s nipples were sensitive; however, the way Seth writhes when he gets one between thumb and forefinger is a revelation. Kisses become bites, a frenzied smashing of mouths, Seth’s finesse all gone south with his blood supply. His hips work against Richie’s in a steady rhythm. They’ve found — oh, fuck, they’ve found the perfect place to grind against one another, a deep flare of burning desire riding every stroke. His toes curl in his shoes.

He needs to get them off this wall, but the need to come has seized him. He’s not sure he can move much more than each subsequent thrust.

When Seth bucks hard enough to stagger him from the wall, Richie takes it as a sign.

Down on the bed his brother goes, hard on his back, but he bounces right up with eyes aflame, hands working his shirts impatiently off. Richie is over him in the next instant, finding his lips again, Seth helping as best he can to get Richie naked too.

When he rears back to work his belt, letting Seth get his own, a flicker of self-consciousness beats the arousal back.

He tries not to let it show. He’s always projected insufferable confidence in place of how much he hates his outer shell, since he’s always known on the inside he’s an undeniable catch. It’s brains that matter, in the end, not how big or pale or myopic one may be. But he’s aware of all those things.

He’s slower to range back over Seth, to prop himself on one elbow over his brother and toy with the hem of Seth’s cheap boxer briefs.

Seth notices.

“Hey.” A hand finds his jaw, turns his attention back from his brother’s dark little happy trail to equally dark eyes. There’s concern there, and the love Richie never thought he deserved — but always knew he deserved, it’s complicated — and a metric fuck ton of heat. But Seth is waiting.

“’M okay,” Richie says. His hand has stilled on Seth’s warm side.

He remembers biting his brother’s neck. It was necessary. But he wishes he hadn’t had to do it, because right now in this incredibly tender moment all he wants is to taste Seth again.

A dim bulb brightens.

“I really am,” he says, knowing Seth will protest as he wriggles down on the bed. But there’s only silence from above as Richie peels Seth’s waistband down, revealing the root of him; down further, off toned ass cheeks, letting the rest of him spring free. He’s wet at the tip. He’s — frankly beautiful.

Richie glances back up. Seth is propped up on his elbows, watching, for a rare moment unreadable.

So Richie ducks his head and catches the tip between his lips, his eyes never leaving Seth’s. He gets to watch his brother’s pupils dilate entirely, see the white tip of a tooth dig deep into the lips their kisses made so red. He works his mouth over the entire head of Seth’s cock just to see Seth tip back, a moan rattling up from his chest.

Then Richie bends to his work, because nothing mind-blowing ever came from divided attention.

He lavishes his brother’s cock with all the care Seth himself deserves, swallowing as much of the length as he can before working back up with tongue and lips and even little drags of teeth. Seth is a dream writhing beneath him, heels digging into the comforter, hands grasping at it, at nothing, at Richie’s hair. When he gets a good grip in the strands Richie can’t help but growl around his mouthful.

“Oh you like that?” Seth pants.

Richie’s cock twitches against Seth’s leg.

“You _really_ like that.”

Richie settles for humming and twisting his tongue around Seth til his brother collapses back. _No talking during the tour, brother._

He really likes the noise Seth makes when he flicks the tip of his tongue along Seth’s slit.

His jaw begins to ache but he keeps on, spit running down the sides of his mouth, his eyes watering. He almost wishes Seth were looking down at him. He’d make it more of a show, doe eyes and slow teasing strokes. But Seth looks out of his mind with this. That’s good enough.

Too soon frantic fingers are plucking him up and off. “Gonna —”

Richie eyes his brother over the top rim of his glasses as he pulls off. “Don’t you wanna?” he drawls, voice gone deeper with the use of his throat.

“Well, ch’yeah, but —”

“So…” Richie teases the word over the head of Seth’s cock.

“So,” Seth whines, halfheartedly shoving at his head. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you wanna…” Now, Seth’s flush is spreading down his chest.

Richie drags himself up to it, capturing a nipple between his lips. “Hmm?”

“Ah! That’s — not helpin’, you bastard.”

Around it, Richie lets himself smirk like he wants to. Serpentine. Triumphant.

“I know.”

He gathers Seth to him and rolls them over. Too quick, too alien. It’s apparent in Seth’s shock when he finds himself straddling Richie instead. He re-situates his seat a little. The friction takes them both by surprise. Richie’s hips buck up involuntarily.

“You, ah.” Seth starts to match the rhythm. He doesn’t finish his thought. Doesn’t need to.

“Either way,” Richie says, going for flippant and missing by a mile. If he were going to be completely honest — which he almost never is, not out loud — he would beg Seth to fuck him. He wants to feel full, wants to get pounded into this cheap mattress until it breaks, something Kisa with all her slender strength could never do for him. But his brother can.

But fuck if he’s going to ask.

It must all show on his face, though, or whatever it is that Seth reads when he’s cracking Richie’s code, because the slow lazy grin of a man winning his gamble spreads over Seth’s face.

“Yeah?”

Richie blinks up at him.

The shark’s grin widens even more.

And the next part just feels like a dream. Richie watches in a haze of arousal as his brother spreads his legs, propping him wide open. Seth’s eyes on him feel too real and not real at all.

The pad of Seth’s finger against his furled hole is electric. A noise escapes him.

Seth huffs a laugh, tracing over sensitive skin. He’s studying Richie. Considering.

It’s a pure wet dream when he ducks down and Richie feels his brother’s _tongue —_

“ _Seth!”_

“Mm hm,” Seth hums into him, that much more sensation crackling around Richie’s nerves. He clenches, mouth agape, fingers finding his brother’s hair when Seth dips in, further, flicking in and out in a crude wet pantomime of what’s to come. He can’t believe — they just did all that fighting and he hasn’t paid any of his usual attention to hygiene — but Seth doesn’t seem to care.

Maybe he. Maybe he likes it, oh _fuck —_

Richie’s cock blurts precome, twitching straight up. It tickles down his shaft. He feels it heading down, down, around.

Seth chuckles. Then licks it all the way up alongside Richie’s balls to the head of his cock, trailing chill and tingles and disbelief.

One of his fingers finds the wet place he left behind.

Neither of them have soft hands. Gun calluses, knife calluses, nails cut short with little thought to their edges. The drag and pinch of Seth’s finger lights Richie up, both a biting and a filling that steals his breath. He has to force himself to exhale, inhale, again as Seth works deeper, too little slick and far too little time to care.

He pauses a moment to let Richie adjust, which Richie is glad for, because all he’s seeing through his lenses is dancing gray spots.

Gradually, he gets used to the intrusion. Soon he’s driving his hips down to take more of the finger, soft mewls escaping him. Seth chuckles absentmindedly. He moves slow. His consideration triggers a lump that catches briefly in Richie’s throat before the next little motion of that finger dispells it, coaxing forth another moan.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Seth mutters.

Richie would say something arrogant there if his brother weren’t already adding another fingertip. He can’t help an auditory wince at the stretch.

The fingers still. “No good?”

“Need —” Richie shifts. “Got any lube?”

“Lube? Richard, we just survived Bonfire of the Snake People. When did I buy lube?”

“Yeah, okay. Just — go slow.” He can take it, new culebra him can take it, and he’s not about to wuss out now and lose this opportunity for good.

“You sure?”

Richie chances meeting his brother’s eyes for a quick nod. “I’m good.”

Holding his gaze, Seth edges the fingers in together.

It’s tight, and it burns, but it doesn’t take much mental gymnastics to translate that into something darkly pleasurable. Richie bites his lip, letting that new pain feed into it. Lets the warmth swell in his core when he sees what that does to Seth.

Seth, who takes that chance to shove those fingers in to the hilt.

“Ah!” Richie bows up, spread wide and tense. Sweat beads atop his skin. His entrance convulses around the intrusion, but Seth just sits there and lets him feel it. And he feels it all. Every knob, callus, scar, everything on those two fingers that he’s seen his entire life and never really thought twice about. Not like this.

His cock gives a feeble twitch, down at half mast from the shock.

“That’s it,” Seth murmurs. “You’re good.”

Richie flushes with the praise. The flush travels south.

“Hmm… Really good.”

“Seth,” he whines, tossing his head aside and focusing on the blackout curtains across the room so he doesn’t have to meet his brother’s eyes. It’s too much. He feels younger, exposed, not as powerful as he knows he’s become.

Part of him is actually grateful.

Ever since he’s been… more than himself, Richie has felt off. He attributed it to the fighting, to nearly dying, to the shifting of his core identity that comes with suddenly becoming another species. And favorite to their queen?

But thinking of Kisa sinks a stone in his gut, so he wrenches his thoughts back to the fingers now drawing back out of him slower than rush-hour traffic. All that matters now is Seth.

His brother.

A zing of _forbidden_ clutches its way up his spine.

Seth adds more spit for finger three, but Richie is fine with it now. He’s fine with all of it. His skin is prickling all over, his hands spasmodic over the sheets, hips lifting clear off the mattress. He knows he’s not ready yet, couldn’t possibly be, but his lips part and words fall out all the same:

“Fuck me.”

“Richie —”

One hand finds Seth’s hair and yanks his attention up to where Richie knows he’s wild-eyed, only half there, hair falling everywhere and more serious than he’s ever been.

“Fuck me,” he grates.

And his brother breathes, “Okay.”

Then he’s there, the fat shove of him nudging up against Richie’s entrance. This is all suddenly, violently real. It’s all Richie can do to keep from grabbing Seth with all his newfound strength and impaling himself to the root on his brother’s cock. He whines, grabbing at whatever of Seth he can reach. He can see his brother’s tongue poking out from between his teeth.

Pressure, hot and wide. Stretching, stretching — Richie sucks in a breath —

And the head pops in.

Oh _Jesus._ Richie swallows messily, his body trying to constrict around what feels like a human wrist.

“You okay?” Seth asks him hoarsely.

“I think —”

Richie twists to his right, biting into his cheek when he wrenches their joining a little. His arm is just long enough for his hand to dip into the bedside drawer and find the little jar of lotion he could smell there. He pulls it out with a crow of triumph.

Seth eyes it.

“It’ll help, it’ll — Just let me —” Richie reaches down between them. They both hiss when his fingers find the hot, hard shaft stuck just inside. He slathers what he can over everything he can reach. The more he touches them both the more worked up he’s getting, knows Seth feels the same, and that translates into hurry, _now._

He wings the lotion bottle away. It smacks the wall with a crack of plastic.

“Now _move,_ ” he demands, tugging at Seth with slick fingers.

His brother slides the rest of the way inside him so much smoother. Such a perfect fit.

Twin shuddery exhales.

Then Seth moves.

There aren’t words for the feeling of existential completion that wells up within Richie that first time Seth pulls out to thrust back home. His jaw drops open. His eyes roll back, and the noise that he makes is both wanton and grateful. Seth does it again, a little faster, then faster still. He drops his head, his breath steaming up Richie’s shoulder, his chest, Seth’s hands cupping Richie’s face.

Richie works his hips down, meets each thrust for thrust. He’s searching Seth’s eyes when he can because the connection makes this that much more electric, but he finds that Seth knows what he’s doing, he finds that soon every thrust meets a spot deep inside him that makes a yowl well up in his chest. He’s tossing his head, clutching Seth to him. Can’t control where he’s looking.

His lips part, he can’t hold back the noises anymore. With every punch to that spot he moans louder. How — How can it be that with all the times he’s tried this, it takes fucking _Seth_ to tip him over the edge?

Suddenly, he’s being folded up, his knees shoved back against his chest, and oh — suddenly — Seth can pound on that spot like it’s his mission in life. Richie bows back and yells at the wall behind them.

“ _Fuck, oh, fuck, Seth, shit — you’re fucking perfect, fuck — oh, fuck —”_

Seth just doubles down, every thrust nailed home with a whimper, his moans when he clutches Richie to him sounding more and more like Richie’s name. He never quite enunciates it. Doesn’t really have to. Richie’s making enough noise for the both of them; and besides, when Seth presses their hot and sweaty foreheads together, they jolt in something like tandem nirvana. It’s close enough to prayer.

A slow burn spirals up from the soles of Richie’s feet to his cock, trapped between them, to his fingertips and scalp. He feels it in his divided soul when Seth begins to swell inside him, harder and harder, stretching him to an impossible width and wider still. His brother’s noises take on a frantic note. His rhythm falters, but he’s fucking in harder, harder —

“Richard,” he whispers, high and losing it. “Hngh —”

“Yeah,” Richie urges, “come for me, brother.” He grabs Seth’s head and holds it to his, other hand wrapped around Seth’s taut arm. “Come _in_ me.”

“Oh, _fuck —”_

When the orgasm hits, Seth’s cock swells into steel — and he hammers every wave of euphoria directly into that spot deep inside Richie that makes him lock up, shout, see stars and come with his brother all over their stomachs. He’s shaking, he can’t tell which way is up and the best part is, everything smells like them.

He comes to with Seth patting his face, softening but still inside him, all of the places they’re touching soldered together like steel on steel.

“Richie? Hey, Richie, come on.”

“Hnnh?”

Seth’s got his teasing face on. Normally Richie would hate it, but every inch of him feels more relaxed than he ever has.

“That good, huh?”

“Shut up, Seth.” Richie tries to frown, but it takes too many muscles. He collapses back with a sigh. He can feel himself smiling. That’s rare.

From the look on Seth’s face now, he knows it, and he’s cherishing the sight.

They both hiss when he slips out. Richie feels spread out, huge, and when Seth peels himself up and off, Richie feels cold. Snake-brain fear and human abandonment drive him to pull the comforter over himself and wrap up like a giant denial burrito.

“Hey.”

Richie grunts, knowing it’ll come out muffled, knowing Seth will still hear. He doesn’t know what to expect. He knows his brother usually leaves his conquests after this, and since he didn’t expect to be here in the first place, he’s at a total loss. Satiation sours the longer it takes Seth to say anything else.

One side of the covers is flipped back. Suddenly there’s a warm body crowding up next to his atop the chilly cheap nylon. “Scootch over,” Seth says, tugging the cloth back over them. “It’s fuckin’ freezing.”

Richie obliges. The semi-dark settles, occupied.

With a sigh Seth relaxes against him.

But only for a moment. Then he’s wriggling again, turning toward Richie, wrapping arms around him and pulling him close. Still pliant, Richie lets himself be handled. Seth’s nose ends up stuck in the sweaty crook of his neck. And his brother takes a big, happy whiff.

“You stink,” Seth murmurs, but he sounds happier than he’s sounded since before he got out.

Richie should just let this be. He’s happy, too, in his own way — happy as he can be given everything that happened earlier, everything he’s still trying to process — but part of him can’t help but over-analyze. That part insists there has to be something Seth wants from him. Moments like this don’t come cheap.

Seth’s breath hits his neck and words find his ear.

 _Maybe he wants out_ , Richie’s insecurities tell him. _Maybe he’s about to say he’d rather be Gecko solo._

He doesn’t really notice that he’s stopped breathing. He parses Seth’s words like closed captioning on delay:

“There had to be one good thing we didn’t have to steal, yknow?”

_Wait, what?_

“I figure…” Seth shifts even closer. “We deserve this.”

Richie blinks up into the patterned dark.

Swallowing, he grabs for whatever of his brother he can reach and hauls him in as close as he can get him. There’s a lump in his throat that isn’t letting him talk. That might be a good thing. He wants to protest, wants to insist Seth can’t be serious, there’s got to be something else, a driving factor. He can’t just want Richie, that’s ridiculous.

 _Sooner or later, your human side loses,_ his dream girl whispers in his memory. _It has to._

Right now, he feels more human than he ever has.

There’s a storm coming. He can feel the impending electricity raising all the hairs on his body. Someone will have to hold this empire. That’s him. But someone will also have to take a fall, and it better not be Seth. Not now that — this. Not after they’ve finally had this.

He remembers the way Kate cursed him as she died. _There’s no more love left, Richard._

_I hope you burn in Hell._

“Richie,” Seth says frankly, muffled in his neck. “Relax.”

Sucking in a breath, Richie lets it out. He settles in Seth’s arms.

“How did you know?” he asks after a long moment.

Seth just scoffs, the sound buried. He sounds half-asleep.

“Seth,” Richie presses. Has to understand.

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid,” his brother says amid a yawn. “It’s common sense.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, okay? I just. I love this show. I never intended to ship this ship, but best laid plans, etcetera. I am trash. Chuck me in the sin bin.
> 
> The last line was inspired by [this aesthetic](http://bonfire-bones.tumblr.com/post/146825312544/los-hermanos-gecko-quote-courtesy-unholy-hunter), made by a friend.
> 
> (tbh I'm a little worried, because this is my first time posting a non-SPN fic, and I don't know these two as well as I do Sam and Dean. (I mean I don't know anybody else that well, but still.) Let me know what you think?)


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